


Memory

by swordcane91



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:12:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordcane91/pseuds/swordcane91
Summary: Memory is a powerful thing, until the Gods decide to take it away.





	Memory

The sun caressed raven hair with its warmth, creating a halo around Nasir’s crown. Eyes of rich chocolate glanced back at him, the edges crinkling from the Syrian’s wide smile.

“Have you awakened, Agron?” his lover cooed, flipping over onto his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows.

“Heart warms to see the sight of you,” he answered, stroking a hand lazily down Nasir’s arched back. “If it is a dream, I do not want to wake.”

Nasir chuckled. “When have you gained poetic speech of the Gods? You are not the big brute that I have come to love.”

The Syrian stretched, his body lengthening in an enticing manner. He gracefully sat up, reaching over him to retrieve ribbon to tie back his hair.

“Come, the day has begun. Spartacus will expect us to swiftly see to our duties.”

* * *

“Agron, where are you going?”

He had hoped that this day would end peacefully, that Agron would quietly eat his dinner and retire to bed without further argument. Unfortunately, it was rapidly becoming normal to see the German refuse meal and instead direct thought to Spartacus and the finished war.

The villagers had whispered the disease into his ear. An illness of the mind, they said, a sign that the Gods would soon claim the mortal’s soul. The change would at first be subtle – a casual oversight, forgetting to secure the door to the goats’ pen. Then, the amount of mistakes would collect into large gaps of memory. People would begin to fade, time meaningless, as the mind focused only on what it chose to see.

And it was at that time that the Gods came to claim their soul.

“Step aside, Roman.” The aged warrior stumbled around the room, looking for a weapon. “Where is Nasir?”

“I am here.” He stepped forward, only to be roughly shoved backwards, an arm pinned against his throat.

Even though age had dulled their lust for battle, it did little to drain Agron’s temper and his strength. The elder man pressed forward, intent on suffocating him.

“What have you done to Nasir?” Agron growled again. “Answer me, Roman!”

“N…Nothing!” he scrambled to say. “Please, I speak the truth!”

The door banged opened. Two men rushed in, hauling Agron off him. Laeta caught him, sliding him safely to the floor.

“I am…I am fine,” he rasped. “Just take him to our chambers.”

“You fucking Romans will not win!” Agron snarled, his struggles nearly toppling over the two dragging him back. “You will not - ”

Their bedroom door closed over his last words. Laeta scooped a cup of water from the barrel, holding it steady to his lips.

“Gratitude,” he whispered. “Apologies. I did not mean to cause a stir in the village. I will be sure to - ”

“Nasir, you are too old for this.” She put aside the cup and tilted his head up to the candlelight. Her eyes softened. “Your throat will hurt for the next few days. If we had not overheard, your neck would have been snapped.”

He offered a small smile, the mere act straining his bruised throat. “What do you propose I do? I cannot allow Agron out of this house – if his mind were truly committed to times of past, then he would willingly walk over the Alps just to find Spartacus.”

“The guards will stop his attempts to leave the village,” Laeta answered. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

“That would be greatly appreciated.”

Their bedroom door opened – the two men, both new to this village for the past year, stepped out.

“The man stumbled over blanket and knocked head against wall,” one of them mumbled. “I will never understand why you choose to stay with brute.”

* * *

Night came, but he found himself unable to sleep. Tentatively, he opened the door to their chamber.

“Agron?” he whispered.

Gentle snoring answered his question. The man slept upon their bed, body draped across animal furs that had kept them warm for many winters. Moonlight from the window streamed over him, bringing back a certain youthfulness the years had taken.

As he approached, the German stirred.

“Nasir…I had a terrible nightmare.”

He grasped the hand reaching for him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Agron shook his head. Passion stirred in his eyes. “I would rather prefer comfort.”

Their lips met, and he cried inside. Ever since illness had descended upon Agron’s mind years ago, these nights of passion had become fewer and fewer, a rare treat for either party. Yet, if he allowed this go further, when would Agron lose mind?

Would hands descend upon throat as confusion ensnared the German? Was this but a ploy to catch him unaware while the German slayed Roman soldier?

He pushed away the man, choosing instead to press forehead against his. “We cannot.”

“But why?” Agron softly whined, one hand pawing at shirt, another carding through graying hair. “Nasir, what is wrong? Is it Crixus? Does Spartacus call us to duty?”

Nasir nearly sobbed aloud. Agron truly had not returned to the present – his mind remained firmly in the past. He believed that the Gaul stood outside chambers, the Thracian just down the hall.

Would it be terrible if he chose to accept such fate and encourage it? Should he continue to fight for clarity of mind when the man clearly lost it already?

 _Why would the Gods fuck with him_?

“What time is it?” Nasir whispered. “If it is morning, we cannot linger in bed.”

Agron chuckled, a sound warming him with its familiarity. It had been so long. “It is barely dawn. The moon is still out, though the sun has begun to stretch her fingers. I am sure Spartacus will not miss us. There are plenty of rebels to help him out.”

He smiled. “The Gaul stands watch outside. I would not want his eyes to linger. Sleep while I tell Spartacus.”

“Do not leave me,” Agron pleaded when he tried to leave. “I do not want to wake from this dream.”

Nasir kissed his hand before prying it away from his fingers.

“Even if the Gods try to take you from me, I will follow.” He offered up a silent plea to them. “I will never leave you, Agron.”


End file.
